


Are You Sure? (Sherlock/sister!Reader)

by Silver_Dipstick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Humour, Kidnapping, No Incest, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Dipstick/pseuds/Silver_Dipstick
Summary: Just some light-hearted humour about the misadventures of you- Sherlock's sister.





	1. Butterscotch Cumbersome has some bomb ass cheekbones

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr, @Sliver-Dipstick.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its like really short just read it im pretty sure summing it up would be longer than this chapter lol. like seriously 4 paragraphs go on.

This Saturday seemed like any other normal Saturday, well as normal as it can be with Sherlock as both a brother and a roommate. To be honest, you thought you were done with his incessant whining until your apartment had a ‘sudden fire’ of 'unknown cause’ at the same time you had declined helping Sherlock on a case. He had 'politely' insisted you stay with him until the work to fix your apartment was finished- and well you weren’t about to refuse free housing and food on account of helping him for a few weeks. Not that you were a genius or anything, smarter than average, yes. Genius? no. But to Sherlock you were a fresh set of eyes that was accustomed to his rather unethical methods.

But alas, we come back to the present. While this Saturday 'seemed’ like any other Saturday, it was not. You had quickly discovered this fact with your oh-so-brilliant powers of deduction when you woke up with your hands tied above your head with just enough strain to become uncomfortable and a heaving chest that meant you were likely going to bruise. Great. At least there was no headache yet. Stretching your limbs out a bit and trying to rearrange yourself so your bum was more comfortable against the concrete was farely hopeless. You did however, feel warmer than the place looked, which you counted as a plus.

With a resounding crack the iron door slammed into the wall. And of all the people- “Moriarty?!” you exclaimed,“I’m not going to lie wasn’t expecting a dead man walking to be well, walking I guess?”. With a smile that had quite literally made murderers pee their pant he chuckled and slinked into the cell. “Well y/n what a surprise indeed and don’t fret yet, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m-”, he was quickly cut off,“yeah, yeah, I guessed, what exciting new game have you devised now, hmm? I’m bait I assume. Hate to tell you but Sherlock won’t come. If only because he knows I’ll slap him if he comes. And he’s been slapped numerous times by me- and trust me- he won’t want a repeat. Except this time I won’t slap him i guess…” at this point you were out of breath, and Moriaty had an (actually quite adorable) face of confusion as he tried to process your jumbled rant. “Wait….why won’t you slap him?” he retorted, still reeling from your sassy and sarcastic slap back. With all of his 'wah wah wah I’m going to skin you and turn you into shoes wah wah’ these days people tended to bow to his every whim. In all honesty he was getting quite bored with his power. Your reply was calm, effective, and also quite possibly the funniest thing he’d heard in years,“ Well, the last time i slapped him he was 19. Still young and chubby cheeked. But look at him now! If I tried to slap those cheekbones I’d do more damage to myself! They’d just cut right through me. It’s really a shame that I didn’t inherit those cheekbones. I’d piss people off just to try and get them to slap those sharp af motherfuckers.”

“Seriously, what is it with you people?” you cried out, “First I’m bait in some diabolical plan to destroy my brother, then I’m free because I made you laugh so hard that a vein popped out?!” After a second’s pause you reconsidered, “You know what nevermind. You’re crazy and I’m free so jokes on you.” Walking down the road as the adrenaline wore off. Wait. Where were you? This most certainly wasn’t London. Well this was going to be an even longer day yet.


	2. The sequel that no one asked for- even me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the short sequel to the equally short crackfic segment that i certainly didn't expect to write

Bring, bring.....

Bring, bring.....

Click.

The shitty, decrepit phone clicked out again as your breath literally turned to frost on the receiver. To be fair to the shoddily-gratified phone box, it was clearly in need of repairs and you'd had to twist the exposed wires at the bottom together (while praying that they weren't live) to even get it to work. There was also the issue of salt water damage as detailed by the appetising white growth slowly crumbling as you couldn't stop yourself from playing with the cord while you waited. A little salt wasn't going to kill you, but the cold might. Well that too might be a little bit of an overstatement but it sure felt like it. You had originally knocked and knocked and knocked on people's doors but no one (besides one reeaaalllly creepy looking guy whose garden you'd immediately bolted from), and no one had answered. It hadn't really surprised you considering it was well into the early hours of the morning in some sleepy seaside town in who-knows-where?. But you did manage to find this phone box, which should, all things considered, now work. Did I mention that sea breezes are literally the worst when it is both night, and you are definitely not appropriately dressed in your two day old pyjamas (sans slippers too may I add)? Still, with no money and the very real chance of hypothermia on the horizon, trying to connect to the operator for a reverse charge was your best bet.

Lo and behold, it was almost as if there was some form of plot moving everything along perfectly- the call connected. "Operator speaking how can I help you?". Pure relief flooded you, "Reverse charge call please." "Ok, one moment, please dial the number you wish to call." With only mildly trembling hands you pump in the numbers, and the very tired sounding operator continues, "and who should I say is calling?" "y/n, please, specify its an emergency too please." Knowing Mycroft, he would answer the phone if it was specified as an emergency, as Sherlock would know I was kidnapped by now, but also not pick up the phone.... or tell Mycroft in fear of his wrath. Mycroft took looking after his much younger sister very seriously, and as she often takes lazy pyjama Saturdays (if you don't you do now because you are definitely missing out). 

A moment goes by as the phone begins to ring out on Mycroft's emergency number,,, "y/n! What's wrong, where are you?!", he quickly exclaims. "Thank god, I've been trying to ring for ages, I got kidnapped, and-" "KIDNAPPED!!??! What in the blazes? I'm going to kill-" "Woah look I escaped and am okay now, if a little cold, but have no clue where the fuck I am and could really use a lift", well at least it temporarily shut him up. "You're in Cromer, Norfolk, I'm having a helicopter and strike squad pick you up and bring you back to London ASAP, ETA 3 minutes. Do NOT move from your position unless you absolutely have to. We are having a nice, long chat about this later, over a nice, cup of tea. That is after I, ahherm, _pick up_, Sherlock of course.". Well that's not totally ominous. "Oh yeah and Moriarty is alive by the way." "WHAT!!????", if there was a way for him to sound more confused and outraged than before, than this was it, all you could hear from his end was some form of guttural chocking and spluttering that was undoubtedly some kind of high end tea that was now staining a high end carpet. Typical Mycroft. Hanging up the phone back into the slot so that you can stew the suspense until you make it back to London you slide yourself down into one of the smashed out windows of the box. It had only been a minute into the three minute estimated time from the grimey digital clocked, if it was accurate despite the mystery substance concealing the hour section. 

"Ayyyyyyyyy" you called out as a full blown trace team surrounds you, and shepherds you towards the helicopter a few streets down. A few locals had woken up by now and were cautiously peering out of windows as if doing so would have them killed. To be fair it did look rather dubious. Even the strange guy that opened the door to you earlier was peaking out of his window, and he looked considerably paler than before, so just to fuck with him, you turned to him and grinned ferally. He looked to have actually pissed himself if his face was anything to go by and you, by contrast, threw your head back and howled with laughter. Until some of the people protecting you got more and more perturbed, and you remembered you'd be spending the journey back to London with them. Oh well. Maybe one of them had brought along Uno to break the ice or something? Only time will tell.


End file.
